Brother's Bounty
by kaykaybear3548
Summary: Balthier's little sister Ivaela appears before him in the NamYensa Sandsea 10 years after her supposed death. Their happy reunion is soon marred by a few ruthless bounty hunters and a terrible secret Ivaela is desperate to keep from her brother. Spoilers!
1. Return From the Grave

I do not own FFXII. Ivaela, however, came out of my head.

It had been nearly two years since the defeat of Vayne Solidor and the crash of the Bahamut. Balthier often thought how lucky he and Fran had been to have made it out alive. Since they had recovered from the rather severe wounds their heroic act had rendered them, they had taken to the skies once more, continuing their happy, carefree lives as pirates. That life had brought them to the Nam-Yensa Sandsea, on a hunt to raise their funds until treasure-seeking became a bit more lucrative.

Balthier felt one of Fran's arrows wiz past his head, and watched with a mild look of amusement as it struck one of the abominable little creatures that inhabited the place in the forehead. The Urtan-Yensa were a vile race of…whatever they were, and they were out in droves today; Balthier had lost count of how many they had taken down that day, but it had to be over 100. Sighing, he followed Fran across the shimmering sands. Their mark shouldn't be much further…

The cries of the Urtan-Yensa grew to a fevered pitch as they neared a cliff jutting out into the desert. It sounded as if hundreds of the little creatures were waiting just beyond the turn, out of sight. Fran looked quizzically at Balthier, who cocked his gun and nodded. They stepped around the corner…

…and saw a young woman in the midst of the horde of Urtan-Yensa, fighting them off desperately with a rather long sword. Balthier and Fran rushed to her aid, taking careful aim so as not to hit the girl. But for every one that they felled, two more seemed to turn up in its place. The battle raged for what felt like hours, until finally all of the creatures had fallen, a large pile of dark bodies against the glistening white sand. The girl had fallen in the center of these bodies, and accepted Balthier's hand gratefully as he helped her to her feet.

"Thank you, so very much. I could never have taken them alone. I owe you my life, I…"

She trailed off, her eyes widening and mouth falling open just a little. They were used to this; a Hume traveling with a Viera was not something you see every day. For that matter, a Viera was not something you see every day. But to Balthier's surprise, the girl stared not at Fran, but at him. Her breathing was ragged, and she was noticeably trembling. Balthier looked back at her, into her large amber eyes; eyes that suddenly seemed so familiar to him. Eyes very much like his own. It was his turn to gape open mouthed.

"Ffamran?" she whispered.

_Ivaela?_ No, it couldn't be, she had died, he had _seen_ her die more than a decade ago. The plague. The plague had come, had ravaged her tiny, defenseless body, had stolen the light from those beautiful eyes. He had never left her side, had held her hand as she drew her last breath, had kissed her cold forehead, which only moments previous had been on fire with a terrible fever. He had held her small, lifeless body in his arms, bitterly fighting anyone who had dared try and take her from him. No. It was just the desert heat, he was just imagining things, she was dead, this girl just, just…

"What is the matter brother, do you not recognize me?" He could hear the laughter and the smugness in her lilting voice, she the cockiness in her smile. _His smile._ No, no you're dead, you're dead…

"You're dead," he croaked. "You died, ten years ago. I saw it, I watched you die, I felt…"

"You watched a cleverly calculated ruse set up by that pathetic excuse of a human being we call a father," she interjected, her voice now hard and filled with bitterness. "Apparently an illegitimate daughter hurt his high class, aristocrat image. It hurt his chances with the royal family and the Senate. So, of course, the most convenient thing to do was to get rid of me. He couldn't just send me away, that would look bad on him as well. He had enough of a heart not to just outright kill me at least. So what better than to blame the plague? And then while everyone is grieving sneak me away and send me to my mother. Brilliant plan, no?"

Balthier cursed the memory of his father. Was there no one's life he hadn't ruined? Anger, hatred, confusion, pain, all of these images burned within him, his head whirling. But another was seeping into his conscious, an emotion that over powered all the others. He could not remember feeling happier in his life; his sister was _alive_, she was standing her before him, why was he just staring stupidly at her?

And abandoning all pretenses, Balthier pulled the girl forward in a crushing embrace, tears flowing unrestrained down his cheeks.

They had abandoned the search for the mark; there were more important things to think about now, like Balthier's grown-up baby sister now beside them. They were making the long trek back to the _Strahl_, Balthier insisting that she rest, that he take care of the wounds the battle with the Urtan-Yensa had caused, and that they catch up on the last ten years. Ivaela chatted animatedly and promptly quelled her brother's worries, assuring him she would survive the scratches. She had fared much worse, and lived to tell the tale.

"So what are you doing out here anyways?" Balthier asked when all other options of small talk had been exhausted.

The cocky, playful smile crept back onto her face.

"I'm on a hunt. A rather highly coveted mark, a treasure that my employers have searched for for years. I could retire tomorrow with the price on this one."

Fran looked from Ivaela to Balthier and smirked.

"Like brother like sister, eh Balthier?" She turned a kept walking, her long snowy curls blowing behind her in the wind.

"B-Balthier?" Ivaela whispered, barely loud enough that he could hear.

He called to her over his shoulder as he followed after Fran, "The change in career warranted a change in name; Ffamran is hardly fit for a leading man. What fool goes and names their son _Ffamran_ anyways?"

His laugh rang out across the desert, but Ivaela didn't join in. She stood rooted to the spot, staring at the back of her brother's head, feeling distinctly chilly despite the immense heat of the Sandsea at noon.

'_Balthier.'_


	2. Meeting the Crew

I do not own FFXII.

I re-did Ch. 2 and 3, because the first round I just was really unhappy with. I like this version sooo much better

Ivaela tried her best over the next few days not to appear as if anything was wrong; she knew her brother would easily spot the slightest thing amiss, and she had a feeling, with her keen Viera sense, that Fran already knew, but was nicely not saying anything. She did not know how much longer she could keep up the charade, however. It had been nearly a week; Teivel would not wait much longer.

She sat alone in the cockpit of the _Strahl_; they were docked in Rabanastre, and Fran and Ffa-Balthier had gone out for supplies, Balthier suggesting Ivaela stay behind and rest. She had raised little objection, glad of the chance to be alone and think about how to get out of this mess. Staying with him forever (as he had suggested just the other night) was completely out of the question; it would be signing his death warrant. On the other hand, how could she leave the only family she had left? She had believed her brother dead; she had sought out their father five years ago, and he had assured her that Ffamran had met such a fate. She realized now she had been foolish to trust him; he had in fact made the entirety of Archades believe his daughter to be dead as well.

Ivaela sighed and mentally kicked herself for being so stupid; for believing her brother dead in the first place, for not realizing who he was before she had opened her mouth back in the Sandsea, for not just running in the other direction, pretending they had never met. It would have been much easier to avoid him when he thought he dead, she mused. Now, if she left, she knew he would not rest until he found her again. And from what she had heard, the Sky Pirate Balthier was rather astute at finding whatever he set out after.

She had to leave, though. She had to take the chance. It had been almost three weeks since Teivel had sent her out on the job; he would begin searching for her before long. She had two days at most before it was no longer safe for Ffa-Balthier to be in her company. Ivaela took a deep breath; she knew what she had to do. He would die if she stayed.

Ivaela stood, gathered the few things she had in the _Strahl_, cast one last, longing look around, and went to the door.

There were voices on the other side. Quiet, waspish voices; Ivaela pressed her ear to the hatch to listen better, but she could not make out the words. It was not Ffa-Balthier and Fran, but it did not sound like any of Teivel's cronies either. Who the he…

Ivaela sprang back as the hatch burst open and two blonde teenagers burst into the _Strahl,_ triumphant looks on their youthful faces. Before they realized she was there, Ivaela had drawn her sword, knocked them both to the ground, and pressed the tip of the blade firmly under the young man's quivering chin.

"Wh-who are you!?" he demanded, his voice quaking.

"I could ask you the same thing. Make it habit to sneak onto private airships, thief?" Ivaela noted how cold her voice sounded, and she almost loathed herself for it.

"Wer-we're friends of B-Balthier's," the girl stammered, apparently afraid to get to her feet.

Ivaela did not have long to ponder this strange statement, as an amused, lilting voice rang across the hanger.

"Ah, Vaan, I see you've met my baby sister."

Vaan felt his terror slip away, feeling completely dumbfounded. His _what?_

"Ivy, put that thing away, I told you to behave while we were gone," he said as he walked by, a huge smirk apparent across his face. Fran followed him, her smooth features giving away nothing.

Vaan stared up at the girl still holding him at sword-point. Now that he was not so terrified, he noticed how much she looked like Balthier; the same wide, amber eyes, the same cocky grin. She withdrew her sword, sheathed it, and followed Balthier and Fran into the ship. Penelo wandered over, held a hand out to help Vaan to his feet, and the two exchanged rather confused glances as they followed continued their journey into the _Strahl_.

It did not take long to get Vaan and Penelo caught up on the recent events, and the five of them sat in a comfortable conversation in the _Strahl's_ small kitchen, hovering high over the Dalmasca Westersand. Vaan and Penelo had been persuaded to join them in their next venture, for which they needed to seek the help of a traveling tradesman who had a choice bit of information about this new treasure. Fran watched quietly as her companions laughed and joked, planning the next days' adventure and catching up on old times, noting with no small satisfaction how easily, now that she was no longer trying to kill them, Vaan and Penelo seemed to have taken to Ivaela. She rather liked Balthier's little sister as well; the girl was funny, charming, and obviously devoted to her brother, but there was something about her, a sadness and a secret that Fran knew was causing the young girl great distress.

Ivaela picked that moment to yawn hugely, and Balthier suggested she go to bed, making a rather snide remark about little girls and beauty rest.

"Oh bite me," Ivaela snapped, her eyes full of laughter. She hugged her brother, bade Vaan and Penelo good night, and Fran decide if she was to find out the girls' troubles, now was the time. She followed Ivaela to the small guest room next to her own, claiming tiredness as well. Ivaela, sensing Fran in the doorway, turned and gave her a small, watery smile.

Fran returned the smile, and perched herself on the edge of the girls' bed. Ivaela sat down beside her, looking slightly unnerved; this was the most open display Fran had made towards the child.

"What troubles you, child?" Fran softly inquired, looking into the girl's soft, sad eyes.

"There really is no hiding anything from you, huh?" Ivaela asked, managing a smile through her tears. "Oh, Fran I can't stay here, I can't, I'm such a danger to Ffa-Balthier. I have to go, but how, how can I, how can I just leave him again?"

Tears were streaming down her small face, and she hiccupped softly. Fran felt dumbstruck, but her natural Viera composure did not betray this. She had been about to ask what Ivaela meant by this outburst, how the child could possibly be a danger to Balthier, when the latter appeared in the doorway, shooting a troubled and quizzical glance between Fran and his sister. Ivaela quickly regained her composure, made up a tale about twisting her ankle on the stairs and Fran's mending it, kissed Balthier on the cheek, and shooed the both from her room.

Balthier turned to Fran. "Just what the bloody hell was that about?" he asked, the slightest of hard edges in his voice.

"It is as she says," Fran replied. "Ivaela injured her ankle, and I mended it."

She disappeared in her room, leaving a dumbstruck Balthier in the hallway and wondering what had compelled her to go along with the child's charade.

Sorry it was soooo long, I promise the next one will be shorter and have a little more action. It will really pick up with Ch. 4, but I haven't yet started on it. Enjoy!! Reviews, critiques, and hate-mail always welcome .


	3. A Disappointment

I do not own FFXII; do I really have to say this at the beginning of every chapter?

It had been nearly three weeks since Teivel had sent the girl out on the job. No word. No sign of her anywhere. He was not worried; it was not worth his time to worry about an employee. He was angry, angrier than he had been in a long while. The girl had better hope she was dead, because he would not tolerate failure. She had borne witness to the fates of those who had dared fail him in the past.

A greasy smile spread across his wide lips.

He would just have to pay Miss Ivaela Bunansa a visit.

Balthier couldn't help but notice how nervous Ivaela seemed over the next few days. She jumped every time he spoke to her, she wouldn't eat, and the cocky smile he remembered was wavering and false at best. He could not help but remember the scene he had walked in on between her and Fran, but neither woman would stray from the story. Ivaela insisted everything was fine, and from his past dealings with the girl Balthier knew that he was fighting a hopeless battle.

They were returning to the _Strahl_ after yet another day of hunting the tradesman in the Westersand. Ivaela was quiet, her eyes darting around as if expecting to be attacked. She had tried to leave the ship the previous night, while everyone slept, but had set of the security alarm in the process. She had been huddled in a corner sobbing when Balthier came to investigate, but she would not speak other than to tell him she must have been sleepwalking. Twice that day he had suspected she was trying to slip away while the rest of the party had their backs turned, but each time Vaan had noticed and called attention to her strange behavior. Balthier was tired, and he would accept excuses no longer. When they returned to the ship, he would have the whole story, however wild or nasty it might be. He was extremely worried about his baby sister; she had never acted like this. He would not see her fall to any kind of harm. He would not lose her again.

A curious smell met his nostrils, completely distracting him from his muses about Ivaela, a smell rather like hot metal and burning fuel…

Fran had obviously noticed this too. They exchanged an unspoken word and sprinted towards the place where they had left the _Strahl_, Balthier grabbing a rather distracted Ivaela's hand as he passed, pulling her along with them.

He saw it long before they reached the site. He felt his heart sink, felt tears sting his eyes.

The _Strahl _was in flames.

Ivaela followed her brother as they slowly made their way towards the inferno, a growing knot of dread in her stomach, icy hands closing around her heart. She had tried so hard over the past few days to leave, but every time Ffa-Balthier had caught her. There was no doubt in her mind as to the cause of the burning airship, and it filled her with a guilt and a fear unlike any she had ever known. The others were far ahead of her, vainly casting Blizzard and Water spells on the wreckage; the distraction would have afforded her a perfect opportunity to get away, but she knew that now it was too late, they were here, it was all over. She was going to lose her brother again, and this time it was all her fault.

The snap of a gun being cocked was all but drowned by the roar of the flames. Ivaela felt the cold, smooth metal press into the small of her back, the hot, disgusting breath on her neck as an oily voice whispered in her ear.

"You disappoint me, child."

Tears slowly ran down her cheeks.

Dun, dun, dun!!!!!!!!!! Stay tuned for the next epic installment, coming as soon as I can get the time to write it, lol

I know, how dare I torch the _Strahl?_ I am prepared for the hate mail. But certain sacrifices must be made in the name of literature, my friends.


	4. A Bullet for a Bullet

**I don't own FFXII. **

Balthier felt nothing but shock, cold, hard waves of shock pounding against his skin as he stared at the ruins of his beloved airship. How had this happened; had it been a mechanical failure, had they left something on that shouldn't have been, had someone…

A loud sob from behind him cut through Balthier's thoughts. He turned, slowly, to see Ivaela a ways back from the group, tears streaming down her terrified face, and an overly large, swarthy man standing just behind her…

_Holding a gun to my baby sister._

A boiling combination of rage and fear quickly overtook the shock he had felt moments before. Balthier stood, terrified to move lest the man shoot her, but at the same time fighting the urge to grab his sister and then rip the man heart out for daring to threaten her. He quickly began to comprehend who had torched the _Strahl_.

"Well, well, well," the man leered, smiling through his rotten teeth. "Terrible shame, that." He gestured towards the flaming airship, not looking the least bit sorry. Ivaela was pale and trembling; Balthier knew she wouldn't be able to stand there much longer. Would the man kill her as she fell, thinking she was trying to escape? Balthier's gaze darted towards the others, to Fran standing just beside him, her face blank but her body extremely tense, then to Vaan and Penelo, who were clinging to each other looking very frightened but none the less determined, before swiveling back to the leering man. _Just who the hell did he think he was?_

As if reading Balthier's thoughts, the man spoke. "My name is Teivel. I lead an elite group of, for lack of a better term, _hunters_. I see you have already had the pleasure of meeting one of my associates, though by the looks of things, she will bear the title no longer," he spat, and in a sudden burst of anger threw Ivaela towards them. Balthier barely caught her before she hit the sand, pulling the terrified girl to her feet. _What did he mean, saying Ivy was his 'associate'? Surely she did not work for this monster…_

"What are you waiting for child?" Teivel asked in his most honeyed voice. "You have your prey in a most vulnerable position. Now is the perfect time to capture your mark."

Ivaela stood her ground, her chin held proudly in the air, giving the man a deadly and defiant glare.

"No. I cannot. I _will _not," her strong voice wavered slightly, but she continued to glare at the man.

Teivel sighed. Balthier watched as the large man took out an oily cloth and began polishing his gun. "Very well, you silly girl, if you cannot handle the job, I shall do it myself."

He raised the gun…

"You stay the hell away from him!" Ivaela screeched, planting herself firmly in front of Balthier, who looked down at her quizzically, a million questions filling his dimly buzzing mind.

Teivel lowered the gun, crossed his arms over his chest and leveled a cold glance at Ivaela, who was shaking worse than ever and refused to budge from in front of her brother.

"I think you miss the point of being of a bounty hunter, child," he almost whispered.

The realization hit Balthier like a slap in the face. A bounty hunter, Ivaela was a bounty huntera bounty hunter that was after his head; _his little sister had been contracted to__kill him. _Suddenly everything made sense; her initial shock at learning his new name, her many escape attempts, the fear and apprehension that had been growing in her over the past few days. She had known this man would hunt them down, and she had tried to leave him, tried to protect him, and now she was standing firmly in front of him like a shield, determined not to let Teivel carry out a job that was, in fact, her own.

Teivel was once again polishing the gun. "You will not deny me a mark that I have so long coveted," Teivel breathed. He lowered the gun once more…

Ivaela screamed, the gun discharged, and Balthier felt a powerful wave of pressure force him into the sand. He fell onto his side and looked up, saw Teivel sneering down at him, waiting to feel the pain of the bullet that was going to kill him, saw Fran, Vaan and Penelo rush forward to attack the man as several of his cronies came running from around the nearest out crop of rock…

The pain never came. Deciding after a moment that he was alive, Balthier sat up…

…and saw Ivaela sprawled next to him, blood slowly dyeing the pale sand around her a deep red. She had taken the bullet, the shot meant to kill him; Ivaela had taken it in his place.

Balthier lifted her carefully into his arms, felt her tremble beneath his fingers, heard her fast shallow breathing, saw the color slowly drain from her already pale face. She was desperately clutching her side, blood coursing over her fingers. Balthier gently moved her hands away, examining the ragged bullet wound. It had pierced her kidney, there was almost no doubt in his mind, and gods only knew what else it had hit. The shot had not been clean, the bullet had not come back out, it could be anywhere, doing untold amounts of damage. It would be a miracle if she survived long enough to make it to the nearest hospital. He tried a cure spell, on the off chance it would be of any use, and was rewarded by the blood flow slowing, but it may only have been the wound clotting. Tears stung Balthier's closed eyes; there was nothing he could do to help her, his sister was going to die, he was going to lose her again, _and there was nothing he could do_.

"Ffamran," Ivaela whispered weakly, not even able to open her eyes, her voice soft with pain. "Ffamran, make that bastard pay."

He nodded, though she could not see it. Laying Ivaela on the sand as softly a possible Balthier stood, drawing his own gun, to find Teivel leering at him, a scene of total chaos behind the bounty hunter and Fran, Vaan and Penelo fought of the rest of Teivel's considerable crew. Teivel's smile grew even wider.

"Ahhh, how I have dreamed of this moment, sky pirate," he crooned, readying himself for the fight.

This man had been hell bent on killing him, had sent his little sister into harms' way to do it, had ruthlessly hunted them both over the past few days, and had only moments ago tried to murder Balthier. He had instead shot Ivaela, a shot that would, Balthier knew, end his sister's life. This man had taken Balthier's sister from him, was causing him to lose her again only days after he had found her, he had dare to frighten and harm and murder the only family Balthier had left, and he still had the nerve to stand there and smile at Balthier as though this were all a highly entertaining night on the town. Oh yes, he would pay. He would pay dearly. No one hurts Balthier Bunansa's baby sister and walks away grinning.

Finding a strength he didn't know he possessed, Balthier smiled back.


	5. Dancing Lights

**Square-Enix owns FFXII. I do not. **

She was floating through a dark, cool, watery space. Her body seemed suspended in mid-air, nothing around her but the softness of whatever is was she was floating in. It smoothed and caressed her skin, washing away the dull aches that had enveloped her body. As the pain floated away in this vast coolness she found the memory of why she had reason to feel pain ebbing away as well. She struggled to recall what had happened, but the blackness was so soothing…

She shook her head; or at least she thought she did, everything was uncertain in this watery paradise. She couldn't just lie back and enjoy it here, something very serious was happening , something that was her fault, she had to help, had to make it right…

Bright, dancing lights had appeared before her eyes, brilliant yellow and pink and white and purple lights, dancing all around her. The lights should have hurt her eyes, shining so brightly in the darkness, but they did not. Nothing would ever hurt her anymore, nothing would ever bother her anymore; she knew that the darkness she was floating in would keep her safe and snug, she knew she would never have to worry or think again. She felt that she had been worried only moments ago, but she could not grasp why. It didn't really matter, anyhow. Nothing mattered anymore but following those beautiful lights. She reached out a hand, trying to grasp them, but her fingers fell just short of the dancing glow. She tried to sit up, to stand up, even to walk, but she could not tell if she was moving at all; it seemed as though the…whatever it was she was floating in didn't allow for much movement. That was perfectly alright with her. She would rest there, enjoying the calm and watching the lights, feeling the peace and comfort that she desperately needed. She closed her eyes, and after-image of the dancing lights burned into her skull. She needed to see them, needed to hold them. Opening her eyes again she tried vainly to catch one of the orbs again, and decided it a better use of her time to simply stare at them. Perhaps one would come close enough that she could grab it, if only she lay quiet and still long enough.

As if in answer to her thoughts, one of the lights seemed to be heading straight for her, it would be in her reach within a few seconds. She held out her hand, smiling slightly (or at least, she _thought_ she was smiling) and waited with a sort of placid excitement as the dancing light grew closer and closer. Holding that light would be the best thing in the world, it would make everything right, it would make everything better. If only it would come a little closer, she could have it…


	6. Away From the Darkness

**I do not own FFXII. Unfortunately. :D**

Balthier was crouched in the hot sand, wind whipping stinging particles of it into his eyes. He had managed to dodge the past two shots Teivel had aimed at him; for a bounty hunter, the man had pretty shitty aim. He flattened himself and rolled across the dunes as another bullet came his way. Balthier had recognized the make of the other man's gun instantly, and knew that it held only six shots. Teivel had used one on Ivy, and three on Balthier; he only had two bullets left. If Balthier could just wait out the next two shots, he could get the man easily while he reloaded.

The next one whizzed inches from his head; only one left. Balthier jumped to his feet, raising the Altair to take careful aim…

And felt the sharp, fiery pain, the hot blood coursing down his arm from where the bullet had struck. The shot was not lethal, but it meant he would have to shoot with his other hand, which he was not quite so adept at using. He looked up at Teivel; the man was sweating, feverishly digging for more bullets, fear etched across his face. He called to one of his cronies, but none could come to his aid; the few remaining were too preoccupied with Fran, Vaan, and Penelo's collective attempts to kill them. Teivel grew more and more frantic by the minute; he had obviously expected Balthier to be dead, or at least well maimed, by now. Balthier grinned. He loved it when people underestimate him-and over-estimated themselves.

With one hard sweep of his leg Balthier knocked Teivel to the ground, his gun scattering and all the wind knocked hard out of him. The large man gasped, making frantic and futile attempts at raising himself. Balthier loomed over him, slowly raising his Altair in his uninjured arm and taking careful aim between Teivel's darting eyes. Teivel began screaming, pleading, but there was no pity left in Balthier to spare the man. Death was too good for him, but Balthier knew no other punishment. This man had fired that shot that would, in all likelihood, claim his baby sister's life.

Balthier closed his eyes. He pulled the trigger.

The dancing light was so close, she would be able to touch it in just a few moments, and then everything would be wonderful, everything would be perfect. She knew it. Just a little further…

Something was wrong. The watery darkness she had been floating in was heating up and growing brighter. Things were grasping at her, moving her, pulling her away from the dark haven, away from the dancing light. She shook head, reaching frantically for the little light again, but it was pulling away from her, retreating back into the darkness, no, no, no, NO!!

Pain flooded her body, nauseating waves crashing into her awareness like the waves of a distant shore she had played upon as a child. Heat came with the pain, a horrible stinging heat that pressed against her already feverish skin. She had to find who or what was doing this and make them stop, make them let her go back, let her return to the cool, watery dark that she had been floating in, let her capture the light, let all the pain and care drain from her once more. They had to let her go.

An odd sound broke through the silence, a sound like someone's voice, only it was much too slow to be a voice. The sound suddenly grew faster and higher, jabbering so quickly she could not have understood even if she had cared to. The painfully slow voice answered the jabbering one, and then a soft, even slower voice droned on for what seemed like ages. The harder she tried to break free, the harder the hands held her. More hands were running over her body, lightly searching for something. They were moving closer and closer to the source of the pain coursing through her body, and she tried to tell them to stop, to push them away…

She felt a harsh, strangled cry escape her throat as the pain doubled in intensity and a blindingly brilliant light slapped against her eyes.

Vaan and Penelo had run of towards a small trading outpost that sat between the Westersand and the Sandsea, hoping to find someone who could help. Fran had tried to heal the shot wound to Balthier's arm, but he had refused to let her, too concerned with his sister to care at the moment. He had carefully carried Ivaela into the shade of a rocky outcropping, and was holding her close to him as Fran tried to disinfect the wound and the two of them racked their brains to think of a way to heal the damage. Even the most powerful potion or cure spell would have little effect. They had tried them anyways, hoping to at least lessen Ivaela's pain. It did not seem to help. However; Ivy had begun to thrash and whimper in her sleep, trying desperately to push them away. Balthier only pulled her closer terrified that her movements would only hurt her more, cause her to lose the little strength she had left. He was amazed she had managed to hang on this long.

Fran had taken out a small cloth, covered it with some kind of disinfectant, and was now leaning forward to dab at the gunshot wound. Almost as soon as she had made contact Ivaela's body jerked, nearly throwing herself out of Balthier's arms. A ragged, pained cry escaped her lips as her body bucked and shuddered. Balthier felt his heart stop, numbly wondering if her's was about to do the same.

Ivaela's eyes popped open.


	7. Ne pas me partir encore mon l'un a chéri

**I don't own FFXII. Or its characters. Or its plot. Or any of it. Square-Enix does. Blah blah blah.**

……………. ………….. ………………………….. 

Fran couldn't help but feel guilty as she watched Balthier cradle his dying baby sister. She should have spoken up the night she had found the girl crying in her room. She had thought about the scene over the past few days, and had come to two conclusions for her actions; she did not feel it was her place to interfere in their family relations, and she had not wanted to betray Ivaela's trust. The girl had told her sorrow to Fran in seeming confidence, and as Ivaela had not divulged any of their talk to Balthier, it was obvious enough to Fran the she had preferred him to not know. It was her business after all.

Still, Fran had not expected this. The thought never would have entered her mind that Ivaela, sweet, pretty little Ivaela could possibly be a bounty hunter, more over a bounty hunter who had been assigned to find Balthier. The young girl had obviously not know he was her brother when she started on the hunt; she had not seen him since she was seven, and had been told by their father that Balthier was dead. When she had found out, Fran assumed she had not wanted to tell Balthier for fear that he would hate her, so she had tried to run away-to no avail. And now she had taken the bullet that was meant to kill her brother.

She should have said something to Balthier, she should have done something, anything to prevent this. If only she had spoken up, Balthier would not be sitting before her, watching his little sister die in his arms for the second time. The guilt hit her like a huge, powerful wave; she had not felt guilt like this since she had watched Mjrn run away from her sobbing in the Eruyt Village. Fran could not sit there idly and watch the girl die. She had to do something, she had to help in any way possible.

Balthier would not let her heal him, so she turned to Ivaela. Fran knew that there was little she could do for the girl; the wound would almost certainly prove fatal. Maybe Vaan and Penelo would come back from their excursion with a doctor, or medicines, or…anything. Perhaps they could keep her alive long enough for help to come. Fran quietly began to inspect the wound, listening to the girl's raged breathing and feeling her thin, rapid pulse as she did so. The bullet had left a deep, jagged hole in Ivaela's lower left abdomen, but as it had stayed lodged inside Fran could not tell what it may have hit. Judging from the angry red lines that radiated from the wound, however, she knew it was infected. She rummaged in her pack for some disinfectant and a clean cloth; an infection could kill Ivaela almost as fast as the wound itself. Fran leaned carefully over the younger woman, lifted her shirt, and began to dab at the wound.

Ivaela jerked in Balthier's arms, a tortured cry springing from her throat and piercing the still air. Her lithe body thrashed and shuddered, as though she was desperate to break free from some invisible ropes that were binding her. Then she lay very still. Fran stared at the girl, fearful that her spirit had fled, when her brilliant amber eyes flung themselves wide and stared at the burning sun.

………………. ……………. ……………. …………. 

She was disoriented, hot and aching and dizzy, blinking rapidly at the blazing sun and trying desperately to remember what was going on, why she was lying in the hot sand, Balthier and Fran hovering over her with incredibly anxious looks on their faces, a terrible throbbing pain in her abdomen.

She could hear Balthier's voice, but could no more decipher what he was saying than she could have sprouted wings and flown.

_Flown. Flying. The Strahl. He loves that thing. I wonder…_

The memories came flooding back. The weeks of fear, the burning airship, Teivel, the ring of a gunshot.

"Ivy! Ivy, can you hear me? It's going to be alright, I promise you, everything is going to be just fine, OK? Hold on, love, hold on. You're going to be just fine. Ivy?"

She looked up into Balthier's terrified eyes, finally able to understand his words. She laughed weakly, trying to reassure him, and instead ended up coughing, bringing up not a little blood with the action. Balthier's face paled.

"Teivel," she whispered. "Where?"

"He's dead, love, do not worry. There is no one here to harm you now."

Ivaela breathed a sigh of relief. He was safe. She closed her eyes, relaxing into her arms. Perhaps if she napped those dancing lights would come back…

"Ivy?" Balthier's anxious voice, floating from somewhere above her. Reluctantly she opened her eyes again and gazed tiredly up at him. His image was hazy, distorted, but she could still make out the worry on his face.

"Stay with me, okay? Stay with me. Vaan and Penelo have gone to get help, everything will be fine, Ivy please, please hang on…"

Slowly, slowly, she brought her hand up to rest on his cheek. It took most of what little strength she had left to hold it there. She wanted to talk to him, to tell him she loved him, to tell him she was sorry, to tell him she would always be with him, but she did not think she could have formed the words. Instead she rested against him, enjoying the feel of his arms around hers, the sound of his voice soft in her ears; she feared it would be the last time. The slow, rhythmic pounding of his heart was lulling her into a much needed sleep. She was finding it most difficult to hold her eyes open, to continue breathing.

………………………. ……………………………….. 

Balthier cradled Ivy in his arms, trying desperately to protect her, to save her, calling to her, begging her to hold on. He had hoped her return to consciousness would mean that she was going to make it, but she seemed to be growing weaker and closer to death by the minute. Her hand was cool against his cheek, cool and clammy and distinctly reminiscent of the way it had felt when he had watched her die (or so he thought) the first time. Her eyes had the same dull, listless look, her body trembling beneath his grasp and her breathing shallow and labored. He reached down, gently pushing a long, stray chocolate curl away from her face. She watched his movements, her eyes slowly but finally reaching his own.

She drew a deep breath and then spoke slowly and carefully, with the voice of someone dying, he thought.

"Ff-Balthier. I am so very sorry. I never meant…if only I had known…"

He put a finger to her lips, gently shushing her. "Save your strength, Ivy. I know." He flashed her a smile. "I know."

"I love you."

"And I love you, my little darling, more than anything in all of Ivalice. Ivy. Ivy, please. Don't leave me, not again. Please Ivy."

Ivaela stared up at him. She smiled.

Slowly, so slowly, her eyes closed.

………………. …………………. ……………… 

**Sorry it took so long to update, Memorial Day and moving and all has kept me pretty busy. Anyhoo, it's almost done, just the epilogue left. I'll try to have it up tonight. Let me know what you think!!!!!**

**The title means "Don't leave me again, my most cherished one" in French. Just in case you were curious ;)**


	8. Under the Moon

**I don't own FFXII. Promise ;)**

…………….. ………….. ……….. ……………..

She stepped into the tiny shower of the tiny bathroom of the hotel in Rabanastre. This shower was smaller than the one on the _Strahl_. The water from the faucets was hot at least, stinging against the dozens of small scrapes on her bare skin. It had been nearly a week since the battle with Teivel and his cronies in the Westersand, but the wounds had been slow to heal. The pain had an almost cleansing quality, and it helped to wash away the guilt that had been burning inside her since that day.

She gave herself a mental shake. Balthier had repeatedly told her over the past week not to blame herself, that it was not her fault, that _he _did not blame her. She could not believe this, and despite their long history together, she could not get a read on his true feelings. There was something different about him, something a casual observer would not readily see, but a difference none the less. A difference that only a long, intimate relationship such as theirs could perceive.

Sighing, she turned off the pounding water, wrapped a towel around herself, and stepped out of the shower. She cleared a space in the fog on the mirror, peering at her reflection, studying it to see if her feelings were obvious to everyone else. Her face betrayed nothing, long curls framing it as always, an expression of careful not-quite-indifference plastered upon it. It was her eyes that betrayed her. She could see the guilt and shame etched across them, feel it burning through them into her skull. She knew everyone could see that, see the guilt in her eyes. She quickly looked away from the mirror, terrified at her expression.

Back in the small bedroom she dressed, the white of her night clothes too pure for her sullied skin. She sighed again, and wandered towards the balcony.

She was surprised to find Balthier sitting here, staring out at the starry night.

………. ………….. ………. ……… ………..

Balthier had been sitting on the balcony of the hotel for he knew not how long. It had been a long, hard…weird week. All of the trials and emotions that had flooded through him in such a short time had cracked his normally calm, composed exterior. He knew his companions could tell he was changed, but that was that. Who wouldn't be, after what had happened to him? His beloved baby sister returning from the dead, the few short weeks of happiness and worry he had spent with her, the torching of his precious airship, and then the horrible encounter with Teivel and his gang of bounty hunters.

Balthier pushed the memories out of his head as soft footsteps sounded behind him. He did not look around as she sat down beside him, her posture impeccably straight, her hair loose around her shoulders and still damp from her shower, her beautiful eyes turned towards the full moon. He knew she blamed herself, knew the guilt was eating at her despite his reassurances. He did not know how to make her feel better, though he desperately wanted to. Balthier wanted little more than for her to know that he did not blame her.

He slowly reached across the few inches of open space between them and grasped her small, cool hand in his. She turned to face him, her eyes almost imperceptibly wider. He brought her hand to his lips, kissed it as gently as he possibly could, and brought it to rest between them.

"I love you, you know."

She smiled, a small smile, but a real one.

"And I love you, Ffamran."

"How many bloody times do I have to tell you not to call me that?!" he teased.

She giggled, her smile growing, and turned back to face the moon. Balthier watched its light play across her delicate features, sparkling in her bright eyes, catching at her soft curls. He could not remember a happiness like the one bursting in his heart at that moment. She knew, now. She knew he didn't blame him. They had each other back, just as though the last horrible week had never happened.

They sat for hours that way, a comfortable silence between them, brother and sister reunited at long last. Nothing could separate them now.

………………………… …………………………………… …………………

**Ahhhh, c'est fin. Hope you enjoyed it. It didn't end the way I expected, but I rather like it. Surprises make writing fun. **

**How obvious was it that Ivaela was alive? I tried to be as discreet as possible; let me know if you figured it out before the end, I really wanna know. As always, comment, critiques, and hate mail most welcome. Hate mail means you're reading, right?**

**Until the next story-au revoir!!!!!**


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